


Without You

by Klitch



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-20
Updated: 2005-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-20 20:58:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klitch/pseuds/Klitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akira and Hikaru spend a final night together before Akira leaves on a year-long trip to China.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without You

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the lemon contest at the Hikagoyaoi forum many moons ago. If anyone asks for a sequel I will stab them with a lollipop.

It was raining. Drops of water beat down upon Hikaru’s umbrella, a ratta-tat-tat noise, unending, repetitious, filling his ears with sound. The sky was dark, too dark even for early evening, and his shoes were soaked, the socks so wet that Hikaru was beginning to make a squishing noise when he walked. In one white hand he carried a small duffle bag; in the other, a green umbrella. His head was bowed, bangs wet, and he seemed to be concentrating very hard on the sidewalk.  


He splashed to a halt in front of a large, traditional style Japanese house. Hikaru paused, sighed heavily, and entered the gate. He paused again before the front door, one hand half-raised to knock. Part of him didn’t want to do this. Part of him hoped foolishly that, if he didn’t touch the door, if he didn’t go inside, then what was about to happen wouldn’t. Things wouldn’t change.  


But Hikaru knew better than to believe such nonsense, and he was getting cold, despite the black jacket he wore. He gave in and knocked on the door. A long wait, and then he heard the sound of shuffling feet and the door slid open.  


“Come in.” The voice was subdued but formal. Hikaru nodded and stepped inside, taking off his shoes and resting his umbrella against the door.  


“You aren’t dressed,” he noted with surprise.  


“Everything’s packed already but my clothes for tomorrow.” Akira’s eyes, strangely flat and emotionless, regarded Hikaru intensely from beneath his lashes. He lightly touched the sleeve of the deep blue robe he wore. “This was the only other option. Besides, I don’t plan on going anywhere.”  


“Until tomorrow.” Hikaru hadn’t meant for his voice to sound harsh, but it did nonetheless. Akira didn’t flinch, and his eyes didn’t waver.  


“You don’t have to stay,” Akira said softly, turning away from him. “I just....I wanted you to stay here tonight, with me. Father wasn’t sure if I’d be safe alone. And this is the last night, so....If you want to leave, you can. I never should have asked.”  


“N-no, Touya, I didn’t mean it like--” Hikaru sighed and ran a nervous hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, okay? So where can I put my bag?”  


“You can leave it here,” Akira said. He pointed to the larger duffel bag propped up against the wall. “Put it by mine, if you’d like.”  


“Shouldn’t--shouldn’t you have more bags?” Hikaru asked quietly as he dropped his own bag beside Akira’s.  


“I sent my luggage ahead,” Akira said. “That’s why I’m not dressed. The bag has some clean clothes just in case the rest isn’t waiting for me, and my suit for tomorrow is laid out in my room.”  


“So...that’s it, then?”  


“Yes. That’s it.”  


“Did you really need to send it all? You should leave some here, in case you come back to visit.”  


“I won’t. There won’t be time.”  


“But it’s only a year.”  


“It may end up being more. I told you that. There are....”  


“Circumstances, right. Circumstances.” Hikaru leaned against the wall and stared out the window in a distracted fashion. “You could still come back and visit.”  


“I’ll be home eventually. There won’t be time for visits before then.”  


“But...China? Did you really have to go that far?” Hikaru looked nervous suddenly, almost afraid to speak. “I don’t...I’ll miss you.”  


“I....will miss you too.” Akira’s voice faltered momentarily, but he quickly recovered. “But it’s only a year, Shindou. And it’s only China. Maybe you’ll be able to visit me sometime. The program requires me to spend time at all manner of Go-related functions, even a few tournaments. Maybe you’ll be invited to one.”  


“Maybe,” Hikaru echoed, and he knew that neither one of them believed it.  


“You can write, if you wish,” Akira added. “I won’t expect it, of course.”  


“What’s that supposed to mean, ‘won’t expect it?’” Hikaru said roughly. “We’re _friends_ , Touya. We’re--God, we’ve been hanging out since we were _twelve_ , and you think that I _wouldn’t_ want to write?”  


“We weren’t friends when we were twelve,” Akira said softly. “We were--”  


“Rivals. Same thing.” Hikaru shook his head. “Either way, you were always around. It’s not going to feel the same without you.” He said something under his breath, so softly that Akira almost missed it.  


“Hiroshima?” he repeated curiously, and Hikaru looked away.  


“Nothing...it was just a thought.” Hikaru’s eyes were unnaturally subdued. “I once got used to having someone hanging around with me all the time, and then one day he left. I ran around Hiroshima looking for him.”  


“You go every year, don’t you?” Akira said, startling Hikaru.  


“I didn’t mention it--”  


“Waya told me, when I asked him where you were one day. He said you go every year, to pay your respects. He didn’t say to whom.” Akira shifted. “Do you go alone?”  


“Usually.” Hikaru seemed eager to change the subject. “Will anybody be waiting for you in China?”  


“The director of the program sent me the address of the hotel last week. He’s promised to have someone there to meet me when I arrive.”  


“But no one at the airport?”  


“No. My parents are in Korea. They won’t make it to China until next month. Then they’ll be home soon after that. Ogata-san’s watching the house until then.”  


“Oh.” Hikaru looked down for a moment, thoughtful, then glanced up again. “Do you want me to meet you at the airport when you come back?”  


“Don’t you think it’s too early to be thinking about that?” Akira turned as if to walk away, but having no idea where to go he ended up walking a slow circle instead, his hands fiddling with the knot that held his robe closed. This fidgeting was the only sign of nervousness that he gave.  


“I guess. But I’d like to meet you at the airport.” Hikaru leaned his head back against the wall. “That rain’s real loud, huh?”  


“You’re changing the subject,” Akira said delicately.  


“I thought you’d want me to,” Hikaru replied.  


“Why? It’s nothing we need to tiptoe around. Tomorrow morning I’ll wake up and tell you goodbye and get in a taxi to go to the airport and that will be all we’ll see of each other for a year. Simple. Practical.”  


“You act like you don’t care,” Hikaru said, hurt. “I--I’m gonna miss you, Touya, and you don’t even care!”  


“I care,” Akira said. “I just accept that that’s the way things are. It’s all just this way, and my feeling badly won’t change it. You’re dripping on the floor.”  


“Sorry,” Hikaru said, but didn’t move to dry off. He looked off into the distance again, troubled. “Do you want me to come with you to the airport? I could--”  


“No. I’d rather go alone.” Akira didn’t meet his eyes. There was an uncomfortable, stifling feeling that had settled between them, and they could both feel the strain in the air.  


“Will you write me?” Hikaru asked.  


“Maybe.”  


“Do you have my address?”  


“On a napkin, folded in half, stuck inside a book of Tsumego,” Akira said, nodding.  


“Why a napkin?” Hikaru asked curiously.  


“Don’t you remember?” Akira said, and Hikaru felt a momentary burst of shame. Akira’s voice grew softer and more far away as he reminisced. “It was...two years ago, I think. Yes, two. The night before New Year’s. You were talking with Waya and the two of you decided that we should all have a night out. So you came over here and spent most of the day convincing me to come along. I didn’t really want to. I didn’t think I’d be wanted. But you convinced me.  


“So we met...where was it? That restaurant. Waya and Isumi-san met us on the way, and Ochi as well. Ochi had been dead set against going, but finally agreed, disapprovingly. We met that girl who’d just become a Pro--Nase?--and that boy Fuku and Saeki-san and Honda and a few others. We went into the restaurant and found a long table against the wall, with half of us in chairs and the rest sitting on the long broad cushion on the other side of the table. I was between you and the edge of the cushion, pressed in a bit so I wouldn’t fall off, we were so crowded. Do you remember that?”  


“Yeah,” Hikaru said, his own voice reflective. He remembered. The place had smelled of herbs and incense, and the lights were bright in that strange way where you don’t mind them while you’re eating and talking and having fun, and then the moment you’re quiet your eyes suddenly begin to ache, except they’ve really been aching all along, it’s just that you hadn’t noticed it before. And there had been music and colors because of the New Year, but the restaurant was almost empty because it was so late at night.  


“And there was that group in the back, only some years older than us because they looked young but they were allowed to drink,” Akira continued. Hikaru stared at him out of half-lidded eyes, lulled into remembrance by that soft, distant voice and those thoughtful eyes. “Do you remember? It was almost midnight and they were shouting and making noise, but the wait staff wasn’t bothering to quiet them. Waya got upset and threw a cup at them and then Isumi-san yelled at him for possibly breaking dishes that weren’t his. And you laughed and elbowed me in the ribs, and I just flinched and stared down into my tea because I didn’t know if I was supposed to say something.  


“The manager finally made the drunk group leave and we got quieter, talking in small groups. I wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t have anything to say so I listened instead. You knew that, of course, because you turned and started telling things to me, and I smiled and listened. We talked about that time you stayed here with Yashiro during the Hokuto Cup and the problem you had with the map, and then it occurred to us both that I had never been to your house. Not in all that time. So you had Nase get a pen out of her purse and you scribbled down your address on a napkin and made sure I put it in my pocket and didn’t forget. Then we all left and had ice cream and I got home late, but my parents weren’t upset. They had these strange smiles on their faces, because they knew that for all my arguments to the contrary, I was pleased to have friends and they were happy for me.”  


“You still have that napkin?” Hikaru said thoughtfully.  


“Do you think it still exists?” Akira said, as if he hadn’t heard Hikaru speak. “That restaurant? The building is there, but...do you think we exist still there, in a booth in the back, talking and laughing, with thrown cups and empty plates, you elbowing me while I stare into my tea. Does it all still exist?” There was something strained in his eyes now, something longing, and after a moment Akira shook his head, and then it was gone. He focused his eyes upon Hikaru once more. “Yes, I still have the napkin. Of course I do.”  


“You still haven’t ever come over to my house. We’re always meeting here or at the Go Salon or the Institute.”  


“I’ll see your house someday. Eventually.”  


“I’ll have to clean my room. You can spend the night.”  


“Yes.”  


“When you get back, I mean.”  


“I know what you meant.” There was quiet again. Hikaru crossed his arms over his chest, trying desperately to think of conversation material. Akira stared at nothing, his expression flat.  


“Are you hungry?” Akira asked. “There’s not much food left, because I didn’t want anything to go bad. But I think there may be something there for us to have for dinner.”  


“Sure, that’s fine. Did you already eat?”  


“No. I was waiting for you.” With that Akira turned and walked towards the kitchen with Hikaru at his heels.  


“There’s not much,” Akira said once they reached the kitchen. “I think we have instant ramen.”  


“Anything else?” Hikaru opened the refrigerator and peered in.  


“Not really. Maybe some vegetables. Crackers. Half a gallon of milk and some very old pickles that I need to throw away. A nearly empty box of cereal, if I have time for breakfast in the morning. Some questionable-looking noodles and a few other things.”  


“Let’s try the noodles,” Hikaru decided. “We can make something together. It’ll be...fun, right? Fiddling around with stuff in the kitchen. It’ll be something we can remember.”  


“The noodles are questionable,” Akira repeated. “I’m not sure about the date. And there’s really not much left anyway.”  


“There’s only two of us,” Hikaru reminded him, and opened a cupboard. “Aha, here! These are them, right?” He pulled out a half-empty bag of egg noodles, held shut with a green rubber band.  


“You really shouldn’t--” Akira began, but Hikaru was already fumbling around for a pot to boil water in. Something made a crashing noise and Akira sighed. “Let me.”  


He retrieved a pot and filled it with water, then set it on the stove and turned on the heat. Hikaru watched him with interest.  


“I didn’t know you cooked,” he said.  


“Anyone can boil water,” Akira said. “And Ashiwara taught me how to do some cooking, so that I wouldn’t have to rely on him and Ichikawa-san whenever my parents were away.”  


“Oh. Can you teach me sometime? All I can make is instant ramen and toast.”  


“I can’t make much more than that. Maybe someday I’ll learn to do more, when I have time. I never do seem to have time for things like this.”  


“Like what? Cooking?”  


“Yes. Like a hobby. I don’t have one of those. I’m just here and I play Go. That’s all. I never seem to have time to do anything but be here and play Go, teach Go, learn about Go.” Akira’s voice was very dry and matter-of-fact.  


“Well...I don’t really have a hobby or anything like either,” Hikaru murmured, not sure what to say.  


“You have outside interests. You went to the movies last week, and I know you read manga and play video games sometimes. I’ve seen you do all those things. And you go places and do other things. I don’t.” Akira glanced at Hikaru out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t have to look so sad about it. I’m not upset by the fact. I’m just mentioning it because it came into my head.”  


“If you want...you could come to the movies with me sometime.”  


“No...I don’t think I’d like that very much. Thank you anyway, Shindou. I just don’t think I would enjoy things like that. Besides, there’s never time. Never time for anything.”  


“Well, how do you know you wouldn’t like the movies if you’ve never been to one?” Hikaru challenged, leaning on the kitchen counter.  


“I just know. It’s not an alien thing, just because I’ve never been there. The water’s boiling, are you going to put the noodles in now?” The entire statement was spoken in the exact same factual voice, and so it took Hikaru a moment of processing to realize what Akira had told him to do.  


“O-oh, right!” He grabbed the bag and quickly dumped the contents into the water, forgetting caution in his haste. Some of the water was splashed out of the pot, and Akira recoiled with a hiss.  


“Watch what you’re doing!” Akira said through clenched teeth as he ran to the kitchen sink and began pouring cold water over a burned hand.  


“Gah! I’m sorry, Touya, I wasn’t thinking. Are you okay?” Hikaru walked over to Akira’s side. Akira didn’t look at him, he was staring at the growing red spot on the back of his hand, his teeth clenched and his eyes narrowed in pain.  


“I-it’s just a small burn,” Akira said. “I’ll be fine.”  


“Here, let me see.” Hikaru took Akira’s hand and examined the mark. “I’m really really sorry that--”  


“I’m fine!” Akira quickly wrested his hand from Hikaru grip and put it back under the sink. Hikaru looked stunned and Akira sighed heavily, calming down. “Could you get me some ice and a paper towel? This stings.”  


“Right,” Hikaru said quickly, obediently rushing over to the freezer. Behind him, Akira flinched and pulled his hand out of the water, bringing it close to his mouth. The cold water felt good on his lips.  


“Will you be okay? Should I call a doctor or something?” Hikaru asked as he handed Akira the ice and a paper towel. Akira wrapped the ice cube in the paper and pressed it to his burned hand.  


“It will be fine; it’s only a small burn,” Akira said. “I’ll leave the ice on it for a while and then get a bandage and I’ll be fine. Go check on the noodles.”  


Hikaru nodded and walked over to check on the meal. Akira sighed and leaned on the counter, pressing the ice close to his hand. The pain had lessened into a dull ache. He contented himself with watching Hikaru cook.  


“I think they’re almost done,” Hikaru said, picking up a few noodles with a pair of tongs. “Do you have anything to drain them?”  


“There’s a colander in the top drawer on the far right. I’ll get it.” Akira started to move, but Hikaru stopped him.  


“No, you stay there and keep putting ice on your hand. _I’ll_ get it.”  


“I burned my hand, Shindou, I didn’t break my arm. I can get it.” Akira insisted, opening the top drawer. Hikaru appeared beside him, reaching for the colander as well.  


“I told you, _I’ll_ do it!”  


“I can get it fine by myself!”  


They both reached for the colander at the same time and it slipped from their hands simultaneously, hitting the floor with a loud crashing noise. Akira winced and put a hand to his ear as Hikaru bent down to retrieve it.  


“It doesn’t look dented or anything,” Hikaru reported.  


“If you had allowed me to get it--” Akira began, then cut off with a sigh. “Never mind. This isn’t the time for fighting. Not today.”  


“Right.” Hikaru nodded soberly and set the colander in the sink. He then grabbed the handle of the pot of noodles and walked over with it. “Better stay back, Touya,” he murmured before dumping the contents into the colander. Steam rose from the sink.  


“Are they done?” Akira asked. He got a fork out of one drawer and walked over with it. “We should taste them. I’m not sure about the date on the package. Questionable.”  


“I’ll taste them,” Hikaru said quickly, taking the fork. Akira gave him an irritated look.  


“I’m going to go get a bandage for my hand. I’ll be back.”  


He left the room. When he returned several minutes later Hikaru was standing in front of the microwave, heating up two cups of instant ramen. Akira raised an eyebrow curiously.  


“Questionable?”  


“Questionable.”  


“I told you so.”  


“Well, I figured you were just being too careful or something.”  


“So you burned my hand for nothing.” Akira crossed over the microwave and looked in. “Did you destroy anything looking for the ramen?”  


“No!” Hikaru looked vaguely hurt.  


“That’s good. Are they almost done?”  


“Half a minute to go, according to the microwave.”  


“All right, then. I’ll get forks and napkins and meet you in the dining room, all right? Do you want anything to drink?”  


“I thought you didn’t have anything,” Hikaru said, trying to remember the whole list of food that Akira had rattled off earlier.  


“There’s water and milk. Will either do?”  


“Water’s fine. How’s your hand?”  


“Stinging, but I only notice when you call attention to it. I’ll meet you in the dining room.” With that, Akira swept out of the room.  


Hikaru joined him a minute or so later with the food. They ate in relative silence. Hikaru was watching Akira, who was staring at the table with a distinct air of detached thoughtfulness. His eyes were narrowed slightly and he was eating without thinking, simply placing the food in his mouth, his mind occupied with other things that Hikaru had no idea about.  


“Is something wrong?” Hikaru said finally.  


“No. I was just wondering about what I’ll be doing for meals in China. The director of the program mentioned something about a cafeteria, but I’m not sure if I’d like that. Perhaps I should have packed some dried food. Too late now, I suppose.”  


“Oh.” Hikaru looked back down at his food and dug out the last few noodles, chewing thoughtfully. “So....do you have anything for dessert?”  


“Dessert?”  


“Yeah. I’m still kinda hungry. Don’t you have anything?”  


“I already gave you a list of everything left in the house. Besides, we don’t have dessert that often.” Akira pushed his food aside. “This tastes questionable too. Do you want it?”  


“No.” Hikaru stood. “I have an idea. There’s a store not far from here, right? So let’s run down and buy some ice cream or something. We could have a--a farewell snack or something?”  


“Shindou, it’s pouring out,” Akira said patiently. “And I’m not dressed, besides.”  


“You’re dressed enough, and I have an umbrella,” Hikaru stated, grabbing Akira by the arm and dragging him to his feet. “Come on. This’ll be fun.”  


“Shindou, I’d really rather not--”  


“Come on, trust me!” Hikaru dragged Akira towards the door. Akira relaxed in his grip, hiding a smile. Sighing heavily, he nodded.  


“All right, Shindou. All right. Lead the way.”  


~~~  


An hour later the two boys returned, wet and laughing, huddled under a single umbrella that was too small to keep them both sufficiently covered. Akira’s robe was wet on one side and his bangs were dripping; in one hand he carried a plastic bag containing a half gallon of milk, and his feet were wet and white from the cold, as he had only had time to slip on a pair of sandals before Hikaru had dragged him out the door. Hikaru was wet as well; in one hand he carried a bag containing ice cream and a bottle of chocolate syrup that he had refused to leave without; in the other hand he held the green umbrella. His pant legs were soaked and he was dripping on the floor.  


“I told you this was a bad idea,” Akira said, but he was smiling. “We’re both drenched.”  


“But it was fun, wasn’t it?” Hikaru’s eyes sparkled. “Admit it, Touya. I saw you laughing before.”  


“That was only because of the way you were acting,” Akira replied. “Everyone was staring at us, you know. I should have changed clothes before we left.”  


“They were only staring because you look so pretty,” Hikaru teased. “After all, the cashier complimented me on my pretty _girlfriend_.”  


“That was not amusing,” Akira said, trying for a straight face and not quite succeeding. “Should we eat now? It might melt if we wait too long.”  


“We can have the rest for breakfast in the morning,” Hikaru stated as he headed into the dining room.  


“For _breakfast_?” Akira repeated. He followed Hikaru to the table, then stopped. “Shouldn’t I go get us some bowls or--”  


“I already grabbed some spoons,” Hikaru said. He opened the ice cream and prepared to pour the chocolate syrup straight into the carton. “We don’t need bowls.”  


“Shindou! That’s--that’s disgusting!” Akira stated as Hikaru dug a spoon into the ice cream and stuffed it into his mouth.  


“Is not,” Hikaru mumbled around the food. “Try some.”  


“B-but it’s messy, and--and childish and--Shindou! You--you--” Akira struggled with it for a moment, his generally mature view of the world once more knocked askew by his choice in friends. He sighed and gave in again. “All right. But I will go on record stating that I was against this.”  


“Go on record with who?” Hikaru asked as Akira sat down beside him and tentatively took a taste of the ice cream.  


“Someone,” Akira replied, carefully licking some stray chocolate syrup off his spoon to keep it from dripping onto the floor.  


“I’m gonna have to tell Waya about this some time,” Hikaru teased. “Touya Akira eating ice cream out of the carton like a little kid.”  


Akira glared at him and then surprised himself by flicking a spoonful of ice cream at Hikaru. Hikaru ducked and the ice cream splattered on the carpet. Akira noticeably paled while Hikaru squawked indignantly.  


“Who are you and what have you done with Touya?” he teased. Akira ignored him, already on his feet and hurrying towards the kitchen for a dishtowel to clean up the mess with. “Hey, Touya!”  


“I have to clean this up,” Akira murmured as he swept back in the room, crouching by the stain and almost feverishly cleaning the carpet. “I--I shouldn’t have done that. You’re making me act like you.”  


“It’s not that big of a stain,” Hikaru said. “No one’ll notice.”  


“I should make sure it’s cleaned up. I don’t want to leave it like this, since I’m leaving tomorrow...” He trailed off and there was silence.  


“I almost forgot,” Hikaru said softly. “Y’know? I almost forgot that you were leaving. For a while, it--it just felt like we were having a sleepover or something. Did you forget?”  


“Of course not, don’t be silly.” Akira stared up at him with clear green eyes. “I couldn’t forget. Tonight is not more than what it is. My last night here until next year. I didn’t forget at all. Why did you?”  


“I dunno, I--I just....It was nice to think that’d you still be here tomorrow.”  


“That’s foolish. You should be realistic. Otherwise you’ll never get anything done and this stain had better come out or I’ll be very upset with us both.”  


“It’s not that big of a stain and it’s not my fault that you threw ice cream at me!”  


“Yes it is. Of course it is. I would never have done that sort of thing if you weren’t around me. Just like I would never have gone to the store in the middle of a rainstorm wearing nothing but a robe and sandals. Can you see the stain?”  


“It’s gone. Come eat.”  


“I’m not hungry.”  


“Yes you are. Stop being difficult.”  


“We should use bowls.” Akira was still crouched on the carpet, staring at the floor.  


“What’s with you all of the sudden?”  


“Nothing’s ‘with me.’ I’m simply irritated that we’ve ruined the carpet.”  


 _“We?_ You threw the ice cream.”  


“You irritated me.”  


“You let yourself be irritated.”  


“You decided to get the ice cream.”  


“You let me drag you to get ice cream.”  


“I’m going to go get us some bowls.” Akira stood and paused, looking momentarily lost for some reason. Hikaru walked over and grabbed his wrist. Akira flinched.  


“All right, I’m sorry, okay? Calm down. We’ll use bowls, since you’re so upset about it.”  


“I am not upset,” Akira said, but allowing Hikaru to lead him into the kitchen anyway. He grabbed one bowl and handed it to Hikaru.  


“Just one?”  


“I told you, I’m not hungry anymore.” Hikaru started to protest and Akira held up a hand to stop him. “I’m _not_. You go ahead and eat. I’ll sit and watch you.”  


“If you’re sure....” Hikaru went back to the table and scooped some ice cream into the bowl. Akira settled himself on the opposite side of the table and watched him with a strange sort of rapt fascination that made Hikaru feel suddenly uncomfortable.  


“Stop it,” he muttered, burying his face in the bowl nervously.  


“Stop what?”  


“You’re _watching_ me.”  


“That’s a problem?” Akira sighed. “Do you want me to leave the room so you can be alone with your dessert?”  


“No, it’s just...you’re freaking me out, okay? With those eyes.” Hikaru shook his head. “It’s weird.”  


“Am I weird? I don’t think that I am. You’re far less normal than me,” Akira murmured distractedly.  


“I didn’t say _you_ were weird. I said that staring at me was weird.”  


“I know what you said.”  


Hikaru stared at him for a moment, then set the food aside.  


“Now _I’m_ not hungry anymore. You sure know how to ruin the mood.”  


“Oh. I’m sorry, I guess.” Akira didn’t sound particularly sorry, and he was looking at the table as if expecting it to do something.  


“So...what do you wanna do now?” Hikaru asked.  


“Are you going to clean the bowl or do you want me to do it?”  


“Can’t we just toss it into the sink for now?” Hikaru said. “You’re being so uptight tonight.”  


“I’ll clean it, then.” Akira moved to clean off the table and Hikaru stopped him.  


“Wait, I’ll help.”  


Soon they were back in the kitchen, Hikaru leaning on the counter while Akira placed the bowl and spoons in the dishwasher.  


“So now what?” Hikaru said. “It’s getting sorta late, but we could still...”  


“Still do what? Play a game? I don’t always play well when I’m tired, but if you want...one last game before I go...”  


“No,” Hikaru said very quickly. “N-no. I’m tired too. Why don’t we just go to bed? It’s late. We can play in the morning, maybe, before you leave.”  


“If there’s time,” Akira said. “I’ll get a futon out for you.”  


“Are we sharing your room?” Hikaru said. Akira paused.  


“I...I would rather we didn’t,” he said, and that was the end of that conversation. Hikaru stood by while Akira laid out the futon near the door to his own room, then slid open the door and stood staring at Hikaru.  


“So...good night, then?” Hikaru said. He was feeling strangely uncomfortable again.  


“Yes. Good night.” Akira closed the door and Hikaru was alone in the room. He stared at the closed door, then shook his head and went to change into his night clothes.  


~~~  


When he awoke, the sound of rain on the rooftop was clear and sharp. The wind was blowing hard and he could hear the tree branches scrape against the wall outside. Hikaru lay still for several minutes, eyes closed, listening to the noises outside. There was a crash of thunder and he pulled the blanket higher over his head, mumbling incoherently. In the following silence, Hikaru heard a soft sigh and the sound of bare feet shuffling across the floor. Curiously, he opened one eye.  


Akira stood before him, back slightly turned, head raised, staring out at nothing. His feet were bare and his arms were wrapped around himself. His eyes were half-shut and he seemed almost unaware of Hikaru’s mere presence.  


“Touya,” Hikaru whispered and Akira didn’t hear him. He sat up as a bolt of lightning lit up the room. “Touya.”  


“Does it all still exist?” Akira breathed. “Do we still exist, Shindou? Together? Or is it all my quiet thoughts? I sit and I listen. I want to speak to you, but I don’t. I want to be straightforward, direct. I want to be myself but I never am. I sit and I listen, and you talk. I won’t hear you talk after tonight, and I want to say something this time.”  


“I...don’t understand,” Hikaru said. “Touya, what’s wrong?”  


“I haven’t slept all night,” Akira continued, as if Hikaru wasn’t even in the room. “I was thinking about everything. Or nothing. I was only thinking. There are things that I wish to tell you, and things that I wish to hear replied to me. There are things I fear. Things I hope for. There are. I am not quite myself, I think, but still. I wondered if I should tell you. Would it be improper, to tell you? It would be looked down upon, perhaps. But if tonight is the last night, the last night in a year of nights that I can see you and be close to you, I thought that perhaps I should tell you. A year is very long, longer than you know. A million breaths. A million thoughts. Nights and days and hours and minutes. I’ll be occupied, I can’t think of you. So I stay awake, and I think of you now. Is that impolite to say? Should I be silent again? I listen and I think, and I wish to speak all the while. I want to find a way to you beyond the silence.”  


“Touya, what’s with you? Are you okay?” Hikaru stumbled to his feet. He carefully put a hand on Akira’s shoulder and this time the other boy didn’t flinch. Akira turned his head slightly to look at Hikaru.  


“Do you know? Do you know what I want to say?” He closed his eyes. “There are two of you in my mind. One plays against me and I run from him along the road and look behind to make sure that the shadow is following along behind. And there is another, not the old you, not the new you, but a you in the future that I see as I stare ahead. There is a you that I want to meet there, in that year. I want to ask that you what is there in that future, where that road may lead. Does he know what I wish to say to you? What I feel ashamed about sometimes, in the night, when I’m alone and there’s nothing but the soft sigh in the wind and the touch of darkness on my cheek. I think. I think about you and I smile sometimes, and then I feel as though something has changed and twisted inside. Do you understand this? What I want to tell you?”  


“No,” Hikaru murmured. “I can never understand you. You’re always talking about how you can’t reconcile me in your mind, because I’m different from when we first met. But I’m the one who never understands you, you know that? You’re a person that I can never really reach, but I’m trying. I can never see behind your eyes.”  


“You aren’t meant to,” Akira said. He suddenly leaned in close and Hikaru stiffened. “Can I tell you a secret? A secret meant only for you? I have wanted to say it before, but you...you’re not easy to tell things. I can only listen and watch.” Akira ran one hand along Hikaru’s cheek, sliding towards his lips.  


“T-Touya....” Hikaru breathed. A feeling was washing over him, and he didn’t quite recognize it.  


“Do you know?” Akira half-whispered. “Do you know that I love you? That I have loved you for so long now, and I’ve been ashamed to say it?”  


“Touya...” Hikaru said again, because he was suddenly too full of thoughts and feelings to say anything else.  


“I want no regrets,” Akira said. “That’s why I had to tell you. Because in a year, in a long cold year of breaths and thoughts, I don’t want to return to see you with another and to wonder...forever...if it might have changed if I had spoken. I wish to reconcile my feelings, you see, and to leave and return without those regrets weighing me down, underneath that current. So you have to know, you have to hear. I love you, Shindou. For such a long, foolish time, I’ve loved you. That’s all I can say to you.”  


“I....” Hikaru swallowed hard. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. Akira was standing before him with those calm, distant eyes, darkness weaved in his hair and lightning brightening those too-pale cheeks, and all Hikaru could do was stare and wonder. Without realizing it he pulled Akira close, then closer still, wrapped up in the wondering and the sight of quiet eyes and darkened lips, and then he found himself pulling Akira into a kiss that he hadn’t known he had been waiting for all this time.  


Akira fell into him, melted into him, returning the kiss with a passion Hikaru hadn’t quite known he was capable of summoning outside of a Go match. His breath was short, quick, tinged with fire. Something inside was burning him apart, and that fire he bequeathed to Hikaru in that one moment where lips met lips, tongue met tongue, dancing together.  


“I hadn’t prepared for that,” Akira admitted as he broke the kiss. “Shindou...” He leaned in again, his arms wrapping around Hikaru’s waist. “Shindou...can we have this night? It is the only thing I have to ask of you. For one night, just this one, last night, I want you closest to me. I want you _inside_ me.”  


“T-Touya, I can’t, it’s too....” Hikaru trailed off. Akira’s eyes were on him now, as sharp and focused as they had been distant before. “It’s too quick. I mean, we’ve only...It’s unexpected. I don’t know if...”  


“I only ask this one thing,” Akira murmured. “This last thing. If you must refuse I’ll understand, but I want this one thing. To settle my feelings, to let me remember. It seems quick to you, too quick...but I have waited and watched and wondered for years. So please, this thing only...” His eyes were pleading now, and there was such need in his face and voice that Hikaru couldn’t help but press near.  


 _I have waited and watched and wondered for years...._   


Hikaru leaned in and kissed Akira again, harder than he had before, and slowly they fell back onto Hikaru’s futon. It wasn’t the softest thing in the world, but neither noticed, nor did they care. Hikaru found himself kissing Akira’s face, his cheeks, his neck, and down to his chest. He reached down and undid the loose knot that held Akira’s robe together and slid the cloth down over the other boy’s shoulders, kissing them softly. Akira’s face was flushed already and his eyes were half closed.  


“I don’t want to be without you,” a voice said softly, and Hikaru was shocked to hear that it was his own. Akira was looking back at him with a painful stare of knowing.  


“Without you,” Akira murmured, and leaned up for another kiss. “That’s why I want this to remember. Because I, too, don’t want to be without you.”  


Hikaru slid his hands further under Akira’s robe and it slid open completely, spread out on the ground around Akira. Hikaru noted that Akira was wearing nothing under it.  


“W-were you like that all day?” he asked, a slight chuckle managing to pass his lips.  


“J-just tonight...” Akira said, wrapping his arms around Hikaru in an attempt to pull him close. “I....I just...” He couldn’t think of what explanation to give, and so kissed Hikaru instead and slid his hands under Hikaru’s shirt. Hikaru helped him a bit and took the shirt off, tossing it to the side.  


He returned to the examination of Akira’s body. Deliberately ignoring anything below the waist, Hikaru ran his tongue down Akira’s chest, pausing only to tease the small, hardened nipples. Akira was gasping softly beneath him, arms still wrapped close around Hikaru. Those hands ran down his back now, slim white fingers tracing the curves on his spine. Hikaru felt a shiver of pleasure run through him and knew that Akira felt it to, that Akira was playing that shiver like the strings on a violin, smooth pale fingers lightly calloused from the constant holding of Go stones yet still so perfect, so fine, so knowing. Akira’s hands were shaping Hikaru’s body, it seemed, shaping and rebuilding, like a master pot maker molds the clay from something so mundane, so unimportant, into something beautiful. Akira touched him, and Hikaru felt that he was being made into something beautiful.  


“I love you,” he whispered, not even sure where the words were coming from. Hikaru kissed Akira’s neck again and felt Akira moving beneath him. He ran his own hands along Akira’s sides, trying to play the other boy’s strings just as Akira had played his, the made trying to change the maker, the violin trying to show the player the new heights, the new sharps and flats, the new bright colors that his eyes were closed to. His own fingers, neither slim nor fine, but roughshod and wild, hands that had played in the dirt as a child, that had seen the light of the sun and the rough rain and the slice of each blade of grass, touched Akira’s smooth skin and bequeathed some of their own sense into him. As Hikaru was made beautiful Akira was made wild, or perhaps both were changed together into the same, into the apart, all at once.  


Hikaru kissed Akira’s chest, one finger touching one of Akira’s nipples. He heard Akira’s breath catch slightly in pleasure and touched the very tip of his tongue to the other nipple, enjoying the way Akira arched slightly beneath him. Those clever white hands clenched, then relaxed, holding tight onto Hikaru’s body.  


Hikaru glanced up at Akira momentarily and saw that there was a curious light to his eyes as he traced Hikaru’s own curves, moving ever downward. They were bright but serious, strangely serious, and suddenly Hikaru knew exactly what Akira was doing. He was _memorizing_. With his hands, with his eyes, even with his own skin that was being touched, he was memorizing. Every one of those clever curves that he played, he committed to memory. Every scratch on Hikaru’s hands, every small perfection and imperfection, Akira was memorizing. Just as he had committed to memory Go game upon Go game, Akira was using his hands, his lips, his entire being, to memorize this moment, this body, to memorize every part of Hikaru so that any change would surely be noted no matter the time or distance between them.  


 _I too,_ Hikaru realized, and even as he bit lightly on Akira’s nipple he committed the spot and the skin to his own memory. He could feel the cadence of Akira’s breath, those quick light gasps, he could feel the exposed skin, all of it. Akira’s face was flushed red and his hair spread out around his head like a halo, sweat already forming on his cheeks.  


Hikaru ran a trail of kisses down Akira’s chest and to his stomach, still memorizing the terrain with his hands, marking it, making it his own through touch and scent and mind, making _Akira_ his own. And even as Hikaru did so, he knew that Akira was doing the same, that his lips and his hands were being always remembered, always.  


Akira made a soft noise and Hikaru moved lower, tracing circles on Akira’s inner thigh with his tongue. He moved over slightly, breathing ever so lightly on Akira’s erect cock, and felt Akira gasp beneath him. Carefully, he wrapped his mouth around Akira’s hardened member, and Akira’s gasp changed into a soft moan.  


Hikaru wrapped his mouth more fully around Akira’s cock, sucking lightly. Akira clutched at him, trying to contain himself as Hikaru touched and tasted him. Hikaru placed one hand at the base of Akira’s cock and pumped deliberately up and down, trying his best to make the motion in time with his rapidly moving mouth. He could already taste a bit of Akira’s pre-cum seeping into his mouth. He ran his tongue around the head and suddenly Akira bucked beneath him. Hikaru pulled away just as Akira came, allowing the other boy’s seed to spread over his hand.  


“S-Shindou...” Akira gasped out. Hikaru leaned up again and kissed him, their tongues mingling. With one hand Hikaru reached beneath Akira and put a finger in his opening, using Akira’s own cum as lubricant.  


“Tell me if it hurts,” Hikaru murmured as he allowed Akira to pull off his pants and boxers. Akira only nodded, his hands taking the opportunity to lightly brush Hikaru’s own hardened member. He pulled Hikaru close, wincing slightly as a second finger joined the first inside him.  


“I just want you,” he said, voice slightly strained. “I want you in me, Shindou. Please, I don’t care if it hurts, just--”  


“Shhh,” Hikaru silenced him with another kiss, and he could see that Akira was clearly growing hard again. He added a third finger and ran his hands over Akira’s chest again, using two fingers to tease the hardened nipples once more. Akira’s hands were reaching over as well, stroking the skin that had previously been hidden by Hikaru’s pants, just shy of Hikaru’s own cock.  


With one last kiss Hikaru repositioned Akira slightly and then carefully began to enter him. Akira stiffened momentarily, his entire body tensing as Hikaru’s length slid inside of him.  


“Does it hurt a lot?” Hikaru asked gently.  


“Not as much as you think.” Akira was smiling, and Hikaru had the fleeting thought that somehow, at this moment, with his hair spread around him and his face flushed and covered in sweat, Akira had never looked more beautiful.  


Hikaru began to move inside of him, his thrusts hesitant at first, watching Akira’s face carefully, ready to stop at any sign of intense discomfort from the other boy. He seemed to hit some spot deep inside and Akira suddenly gasped, arching his back and pulling himself closer to Hikaru.  


“F-faster,” Akira half-pleaded, swallowing hard. Hikaru took his cue and sped up his rhythm, pushing in harder and faster, going deeper inside. They were close now, they were connected, held together by something deeper than that length of red thread that was wrapped around both their hearts. As Akira’s lithe naked body moved steadily beneath him, his breath hot on Hikaru’s cheek and his moans both heard and felt, Hikaru felt that they were suddenly closer than ever before, that they would not, could not be separated, that even if they were an ocean apart and a year away this time, too, would be committed to memory, this closeness, this everything.  


Hikaru moved inside Akira, thrusting in deeper, his breath short yet leaning in for a kiss anyway. Akira seemed oblivious of his own gasping even as he accepted the kiss, their essences and tongues mingling, light breaths merging into one. Hikaru was barely aware of Akira repeated his name over and over as he was driven ever closer to the edge, and then he was suddenly aware of his own pleasure-filled moans as he, too, neared orgasm.  


He continued to thrust inside at an ever-growing speed and Akira was almost wild beneath him, head thrown back against the pillow, hands clenched at Hikaru’s back. His hair was tousled, damp with sweat, completely unlike its usual immaculate state. Akira himself was different, was changed, gasping and moaning, reacting to his the deep sensations and the burning feelings, so unexpected, so different, which raged inside. Hikaru thrust in again and Akira came, crying out unintelligibly and arching his back as he did so.  


Hikaru leaned forward and kissed his forehead, kissed his lips, still moving, still connected. Akira was holding him closer now, whispering to him things that Hikaru couldn’t quite hear, growing ever closer until he heard himself cry out Akira’s name as he climaxed.  


Hikaru pulled out and collapsed to onto the blanket beside Akira, wrapping his arms around the other boy. Akira’s breathing was quickly growing calmer, more steady, but he still seemed partially exhausted, as if the confession as well as the lovemaking had taken all the energy out of him.  


“Don’t go tomorrow,” Hikaru said softly, and Akira put a finger to his lips to silence him.  


“Don’t ask me that...please don’t ask me that.” And so there was silence and longer silence, as the two fell fast asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.  


~~~  


Hikaru awoke the next morning, still a bit tired but happy nonetheless. He stirred, realizing belatedly that something was wrong, something was missing. He realized almost immediately the problem-- he was alone. Hikaru’s eyes shot open and he sat up, confused.  


“I’m sorry,” a voice said, and Hikaru glanced up to see Akira, fully dressed in a suit and tie, standing before him. Hikaru suddenly felt acutely aware of his own nakedness and pulled the blanket up to cover himself, strangely ashamed. Somehow, he felt as if the Akira he had been with and loved that previous night had disappeared, hidden under layers of clothing and icy eyes. This Akira was somehow too calm, too immaculate to be his.  


“Touya...” Hikaru’s voice was hoarse and he swallowed hard. The reality hit him and he felt a deep sadness arise within. “Are you going?”  


“The taxi should be here soon,” Akira said, his voice emotionless.  


“Don’t go.”  


“I told you not to ask me that.” Akira turned away from him and Hikaru suddenly felt angry. He jumped to his feet.  


“What do you mean, don’t ask?” he demanded. “What’s wrong with you today? Last night you were admitting you loved me and now--”  


“I’m sorry!” Akira’s voice was suddenly raw with sadness and anger and Hikaru felt a pang in his heart. Akira took a shaky breath and when he spoke again his voice had resumed its usual calmness. “Shindou...you know that I have to go. I’ve already made the preparations. I can’t simply tell them I’ve changed my mind. So don’t ask me. If you ask me, I--I might change my mind. I mustn’t do that, I mustn’t let people down. Don’t ask me.”  


“I....I guess I’m sorry too,” Hikaru said after a minute. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m gonna miss you, though. I don’t like the thought of being without you.”  


“Time continues without me here,” Akira said. “It continues no matter what. And in a year we’ll be--” He was cut off as a horn sounded outside. Akira shook his head and picked up his duffel bag.  


“Are you going now?”  


“Yes. My ride’s here.”  


Hikaru walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder, leaning in for a kiss.  


“Then...good-”  


“Don’t.” Akira turned his face away. “Don’t kiss me good-bye. If you do, it’s an ending. I don’t want that.” His face was determined. “It’s far too final if you kiss me good-bye. So don’t. When I return, meet me at the airport, and kiss me hello.”  


With that, Akira swept out the door, closing it behind him. Hikaru stared after him listening to the sound of footsteps walking steadily away, of a door closing and driving away. Hikaru remained standing there for a long time. Finally, he got dressed, picked up his own duffel bag and the green umbrella.  


Without another word, Hikaru left the house and walked alone down the street as the sun came out.  



End file.
